


Void You Left

by AliceMarylin1999



Series: Screaming Void [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Break Up, Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Confessions, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Forbidden, Forbidden Love, Heartbreak, Heartbreaking, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Men Crying, Sad, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 20:20:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20552129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceMarylin1999/pseuds/AliceMarylin1999
Summary: Year 2003. After Aziraphale and Crowley shared a forbidden kiss outside the jazz club, Aziraphale gathers all his strength to set matters straight and tell Crowley they cannot do anything like that ever again.That proves to be way harder than he thought.





	Void You Left

Aziraphale hadn’t slept or eaten for almost two months now, ever since he last saw Crowley. He felt exhausted beyond any measure. He couldn’t think straight, as he wandered through the streets of London, as he went through books without understanding a word, as he lied in his bed, staring into the night. He didn’t hear a word from Crowley either. He didn’t know if he was relieved or sad. He desired to see him again and dreaded it. That’s what his life became now – dread and desire, nothing celestial about that, he thought, bitterly smiling to himself.

One particularly cold and windy evening, not long before Halloween, as he already closed the bookshop, he picked up the phone and dialed Crowley’s number. He didn’t know why he decided to do that, but after a while, his anxiety and restlessness became so unbearable he thought that the worst heartbreak couldn’t be more torturing than being alone with his thoughts. He knew Crowley’s home phone number by heart, and with each digit that he pressed, he felt more and more nauseous.

Aziraphale didn’t know if he would be able to speak. The urge to hang up before Crowley picked up was getting stronger and stronger, but before he could do that, he heard Crowley’s voice:

“Anthony J. Crowley speaking”, he heard a low and tired voice.

“Crowley…”

“Angel? What’s up?”, his voice softened or so it seemed.

“Please, come. I need to speak with you. It’s very important”.

“Where to?”

“Bookshop”.

“You’re sure? Won’t we be…”

“I closed it. It’s dark. Come, please”.

“Alright”, Crowley sighed. “Wait for me”.

Aziraphale heard his own teeth tapping against each other as he waited for Crowley, he couldn’t sit or stand still, he was pacing around just like Crowley always did, only now on verge of tears. Minutes seemed like hours, and an entire year seemed to have passed before he heard the doorbell ring.

“Hey”.

Crowley was wearing a long black coat, scarf up to his nose, his ginger hair wet and messed up from the rain. Aziraphale hoped that the time they spent apart would ease the pain of seeing him again, but it only made it worse. Crowley took off his coat and now was looking strangely casual in his black jeans and a black turtleneck, without his usual jacket or posh accessories.

“_This is the way I could’ve seen him on evenings like that if he could live here with me. If we could’ve…_ ” – the thought was as inappropriate as it was painful. _“Only that won’t happen”._

“So”, - Crowley sat in a couch, looking less confident than usual, not taking up all the available space as he always used to do, - “To what I owe the pleasure?”

“I need to speak with you about the last time. I… I made up my mind about something. About everything. I need to tell you”. – Aziraphale tried to stay calm, but he couldn’t feel his feet on the ground.

“Alright, speak”. – Crowley’s voice was calm, his eyes were covered with dark glasses, and only his posture – he seemed to be slouching- let out the way he truly felt. Aziraphale saw that and it made him feel even worse.

“Listen, Crowley. It’s very hard for me. What happened… That last time”, Aziraphale couldn’t make himself put it in words, “It can never happen again. We should go back to the times… You know what I mean. The way it was before”.

“Before what?” , Crowley stood up from the couch. “You mean, like, before the humanity spread itself? Like, in Eden?”

“No, not like in Eden…” - Aziraphale hid his eyes, looking at the floor.

“I saw you looking at me that very specific way”. – Crowley spoke with a harsh voice, hiding his hands in his pockets nervously. – “Long time”.

“We can’t cross the line, Crowley”. – Aziraphale forced himself to look up at Crowley. “Specific line. Don’t make me say it, I’m already in terror”.

“Alright”. – Crowley nodded. Now his voice couldn’t hide it anymore. He was hurt. “I get it”.

“Listen…” Aziraphale stepped up to Crowley, too scared to look him in the face, but too desperate to comfort him in some way not to get closer. “If my people find out, I know how to protect myself. I can act a fool. I can claim to be a victim of your… You know. Play an idiot tempted by an infamous demon Crowley. All your memos about Spanish Inquisition and Second World War, they all will help. I’ll be punished. Discorporated. But not destroyed. But you…” He felt a lump in his throat. He couldn’t say the word. “You know that I’m right. You know I’m right, Crowley. You asked me for holy water. You planned to rob a church – why would you do that is you were not under impression that your people will destroy you for what we’ve been doing all this time? What you proposed the last time, it was insane. You asked me to stay at your place. How do you know that other demons who envy you, despise you, mistrust you – and you told me, there are many of those – that they aren’t watching who’s coming in and out of your house?”

“So that’s your decision?”, Crowley asked with some alien, emotionless voice.

“It’s not something I want”. Aziraphale couldn’t stay calm anymore, as he looked Crowley in the face. - “What I want is irrelevant now”.

“No, it’s not”. – Crowley’s mouth twitched in a grimace of pain.

“Alright, it’s not" – Aziraphale said in despare. “I want you to exist. That’s what I want”.

“I can take care of myself”. – Crowley suddenly softened, as he took his glasses off and made a step towards Aziraphale, “No one will destroy me, I’m…”

“Crowley, no one ever died because of me!”, Aziraphale exclaimed, losing control of his emotions now. “No one! And you want me to risk letting YOU be destroyed? You, of all…”

“What about me?”

“Oh, please! Please, don’t do that!" Aziraphale looked away in pain. “You know what is it about you. You know what I want. And you know who I am and what I must do. Don’t make it harder than it’s already is”.

“What about me?”

“You know perfectly well, Crowley”.

“No, I don't think I do”, Crowley was getting closer to him, looking more desperate than angry. “Not from what I see you doing now”.

“Don't do that. Please”, Aziraphale looked at him with a plea, unsure how long he can go on like this. “The way I feel about you hasn’t changed”.

“And which way is that, will you tell me? ‘Cause I can't tell”, Crowley said more irritated now.

“Now that is just cruel of you”, Aziraphale looked him in the eye, looking hurt and angry himself.

“Cruel? You have some nerve calling me cruel, angel”. Crowley’s eyes narrowed. “You left me there. I had to run for you”.

“I panicked”. Aziraphale tried to hide the overwhelming shame he felt.

“And that's supposed to make me feel any better?”

“ What was I supposed to do?”

“I don't know, NOT leave me?”

“And then what?”, Aziraphale asked, now half-genuinely wanting to hear the answer. “Then what?”

“We could go somewhere else. Somewhere private, somewhere safe”. Crowley’s voice softened again. “I know such places”.

“Oh, I bet you do”, Aziraphale said bitterly, fully understanding how much he was going to regret that.

“What's that supposed to mean?”, Crowley asked with so much pain in his voice, Aziraphale hated himself for being so mean.

“Nothing”. He looked down on the floor. “Enough, Crowley. I've made up my mind. You have to accept that”

“Angel, your lot will not be loyal to you the same way you are loyal to them”, Crowley was now several inches away from him, trying to look him in the eyes, as Aziraphale looked away. “They don’t care about you. They won’t protect you. But I care about you and I can protect you, you know that yourself”

“You’re wrong, Crowley”. – Aziraphale looked to the floor.

“I’m not”, Crowley’s voice sounded more caring than irritated now. “I’ve been where you are now”.

“You fell” Aziraphale forced himself to look Crowley in the eye as the said that. Crowley’s face got sadder as he heard that.

“And I too believed they wouldn’t let that happen”, Crowley answered in a softer voice

“You must’ve done something to…”

“All I did was asking questions and the next thing I knew…”

“Don’t tell me that”, Aziraphale said harshly. “I don’t want to know. I don’t need to know”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, then”, Crowley answered with uncovered disappointment in his voice.

“Crowley, we have to keep it the way it used to be”. Aziraphale struggled to sound calm again. “Do you understand me?”

“I do”. – Crowley nodded without a hint of emotion.

“Isn’t it better to have at least something instead of nothing at all?”, Aziraphale asked with so much hope in his voice it sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

“I guess it is”. Crowley was no longer looking at him and sounded like he was very far away.

“And please, take back your scarf. It can't be here”, Aziraphale forced himself to say, feeling that he was being stabbed from inside with a hundred sharp knives with every sound.

“You amaze me”. Crowley looked at him again, calm now, but with cold rage, Aziraphale had never seen before. One could almost say it was borderline hatred, but the angel knew that Crowley was incapable of hating anyone, least of all his only friend. Still, the chilliness of his tone was frightening. “Scarf, really? How petty is that?”

“I'm not being petty”, Aziraphale looked down, hiding his eyes, fearing he might burst into tears any second now. “It was very, very kind of you to give it to me, it kept me warm. I'm grateful for that. But I can't keep it here”.

“I gave it to you. It's yours. I'm not taking it back. It's a gift”.

“You have to”, Aziraphale was gasping. “I can't keep it”.

“But why, Aziraphale, for Hell’s sake, why?”. Crowley’s voice wasn’t cold anymore, he also seemed to be losing control of his feelings, his anguish raging through his voice. “There's no "Anthony J Crowley" emblem on it...”

“I can't keep it!”, Aziraphale shouted, devastated.

“Why?!” Crowley sounded desperate and wounded, as he stepped up and took him by his shoulders, still unbearably gentle even in his anger. “Why are you giving me back my bloody scarf? Too soiled with evil for your holy…”

“I can’t!” Aziraphale yelled, now looking in Crowley in the eyes, unable to hold back tears. He hated the way his voice broke from his sobbing, but he could no longer help it. “I wear it all day long, all night, and it drives me insane! It smells of you! It reminds me of you, and that…”

Aziraphale could speak no more, as he closed his face with both hands and wept. Crowley, shocked and scared, took him in his arms and whispered hastily in his ear:

“Ohh, no, no, no, no, no! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please don't cry, please, please, please don't cry. Angel, listen, listen to me, look at me, please!” Crowley tried to gently tilt Aziraphale’s face to look him in the eyes, but Aziraphale was too ashamed of his tears and turned away stubbornly. “Oh, no, no, no, no, don't cry, please don't cry, please! What can I do, tell me, I'll do anything, just don't cry, don't cry, please!” He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and gave it to Aziraphale. “Take it, take it, here, it's fine, don't turn away, don't turn away, please look at me, look at me!”

Aziraphale forced himself to stop crying, as he wiped the wetness off his face. Crowley gently took Aziraphale’s hands off his face and bent on one knee to look him in the eyes, while Aziraphale was still holding his head low.

“Listen, angel...”, Crowley started.

“Crowley, stand up, please, I'm embarrassed”, Aziraphale spoke with his voice still ragged from crying, as he rose his head. Crowley stood up, his hands still on the angel’s shoulders.

“Aziraphale, please, listen. I'm sorry. I didn't understand. I was a fool. I'm sorry. Let's not talk about it. I'll do what you say. Please, don't be so sad, I can't see you like this”. All the coldness was now gone from his voice, leaving only softness and sincere worry. “I’ll do what you say. I am your friend. We don’t have friends in Hell. That means a lot to me. You don’t want me in trouble… I understand. I appreciate that. You’re right, I get it now. I won’t do what you don’t want me to. I won’t mention it again. It’s alright. I’ll take the scarf”.

“No… No, I changed my mind”, Aziraphale said quietly. “Leave the scarf. Please. I want to keep it”.

“Are you sure?” Crowley asked, looking rather pleased to hear that.

“Yes, I am. I want to keep it”.

“Alright, then. So… Shall I leave?”, Crowley asked with a once again calm voice, though his hands were still shaking.

“Do you want some tea? It looks like you’re shaking. It was cold outside, and raining all day”. Aziraphale could master a smile, once again.

“Yeah, tea sounds good. With or without “spicing”, I’ll leave that to you”, Crowley said with a smile, as he lowered himself on a couch.

They didn’t speak much as they were drinking tea, weary of words and both of them aware of things left unspoken between them – a lead burden on both their hearts which they were still unable to free themselves of, at least not yet. Aziraphale gazed on Crowley’s hands, longingly, and as they picked a teacup, still trembling.

“I don’t want you gone. I want you in my life. I want you to come over here as often as it’s possible”, he finally managed to say, his voice steady at last.

“Deal, then. We’re on the same page here”, Crowley answered with a smile.

They sat in awkward silence for another couple of minutes, until Crowley stood up.

“I think it’s time for me to head home”, he said.

“You can stay here if you like”, Aziraphale said reluctantly. “There’s a storm outside, I’m worried about you driving. I don’t sleep, really. I have a room upstairs, you can have the bed and I’ll be down here, reading my books…”.

He didn’t know if he yearned to hear a “yes” or a “no”.

“Uh, angel. That won’t do, I’m afraid”, Crowley said sadly. “Not yet, anyway. Don’t worry about me driving. I’m a good driver, despite what you say. And a demon, on top of it… If you worry so much, I can call you when I’m home”.

Aziraphale knew what that meant – that they will have to say goodbye one more time that night, only on the telephone. He still couldn’t refuse.

“Yes, please. Call me”

Crowley put his coat and glasses on and walked up to the front door. Aziraphale followed him and they both stopped and once again stared at each other in silence.

“Goodnight, Crowley”, Aziraphale said, extending his hand. Crowley took it, but didn’t shake it and instead raised it to his face, stopping an inch away from his lips.

“May I?”, he asked seriously. Aziraphale nodded.

Crowley pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s knuckles courtly, slightly bowing his head.

“Night, angel. I’ll call you when I’m home, but don’t worry anyway. Even if I somehow lose control of my car, she can regain it on her own, she’s no ordinary car, and you know it. Night”

Crowley smiled nervously, let go of his hand and quickly left. Aziraphale was stuck, looking at the door, for a while. Then he leaned to the switch and turned off all the lights, except for a small lamp on the desk. He walked to the place where Crowley had been minutes ago, put a phone handset on a coffee table, took his tie off, and curled up on a couch. His head was lying on a pillow, and he felt a very distinctive scent underneath it. He knew very well, though, what it was. He lifted his head and took Crowley’s scarf from under the pillow and lied back, now pressing it to his face.

There was a scent of wool and quite a strong trace of cherry tobacco on the cloth of the scarf. And yet there was a stronger, persistent fragrance on top of every other smell. It was bold, and sharp, and red, red, so very red! Bold as Crowley’s spirit, sharp as Crowley’s tongue, red as Crowley’s hair. It was him. Only he wasn’t there anymore. Aziraphale closed his eyes, burying his nose in fabric, and felt, for the first time in eternity, a gaping hole inside him, and the void inside that hole seemed to be sucking in his entire existence and all its purpose.


End file.
